


this could be good, this could be good

by sleepinnude



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling, Edging, Frottage, M/M, french declarations of love, they are soft and in love and deserve the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:41:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23774752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepinnude/pseuds/sleepinnude
Summary: what the world needs now is 700 words of benny and dean being soft and in love
Relationships: Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester
Comments: 19
Kudos: 63





	this could be good, this could be good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CherryIce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryIce/gifts).



> disclaimer to say that the detail of benny blowing a raspberry into dean’s hand is stolen lovingly from [cherry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryIce/pseuds/CherryIce) because every time i reread it in her fics my heart grows nine sizes
> 
> [title from mary lambert's "she keeps me warm" because i'm that flavor of queer]

When Dean wakes up, he’s embarrassed to find he’s curled himself up small with one leg slung over Benny’s waist. His face is pressed deep into the crook of Benny’s neck and he has his hand in the middle of his chest and some shitty voice at the back of his head starts sending off alarms and telling him this is truly some _stage five clinger_ behavior. Dean isn’t supposed to be the one leaving claw-marks in his bed partners. Wanting anything like that gave it power over you.

But he can’t help but notice how _warm_ he is. They’ve got a sheet and a blanket and a comforter beside that tossed over them and Dean is plastered to Benny’s side the room should be stuffy, underground as it is, but instead it’s just heady and warm and Dean is waking slow into it. Experimentally, he unwinds the leg hooked over Benny’s, lets it slip down. Which makes the matter of his morning wood a little more apparent. And Benny must have been awake this whole time because he just huffs out something that could almost be a laugh and turns his head into Dean’s hair.

“Morning, cher,” he hums and that shitty voice at the back of Dean’s head vanishes like a ghost shot through with iron because fuck does Benny sound good. Soft and low and close and all for Dean. The arm around Dean’s shoulders tugs him a little closer, further into Benny’s side and then Benny is slipping a hand over the one Dean has on his chest. He fits his fingers between Dean’s so that they’re not quite laced together but more just sort of jigsawed. And then Benny curls his fingers and they are laced together, then, fully holding hands and Dean is suddenly close to doing something truly mortifying like _crying_ because he’s warm and rested and safe and there’s a feeling at the base of his spine that he’s never encountered before but it’s pleasant. It’s slow-cooking and it’s something he could get used to.

Instead of crying, thankfully, Dean just tilts his chin down a little and presses a kiss to Benny’s shoulder. He breathes through it, opens his mouth a little so it’s sloppy and spilling over, like all if his edges. The hand at his back comes up smoothly, cards through Dean’s hair -- against the grain, the way that makes him shiver, the way that he loves.

Benny takes the opportunity to compete for title of Sappiest Fucker in This Bed, though, and draws their linked hands up, presses a dry kiss into Dean’s palm. But then he calmly blows a raspberry there and Dean gives a surprised sort of squawk and Benny starts laughing at him.

There’s a bit of a tussle, then. Dean straddling Benny and calling him old man and Benny pretending to let Dean get the upper hand before neatly flipping him onto his back without so much as a modicum of effort. He’s cast over Dean, hands on either side of his head with one leg idly pinning his hips down and Dean sort of forgets the indignity and the wrestling and even the mortification of waking up so completely strung out on one person because his hips come up and he finds the firm, hard line of Benny’s thigh.

It’s moments later, _long_ moments later because Benny is a fucking nightmare about edging him up and back tortuously, that sees Dean with his mouth panting and lush and open against Benny’s shoulder and his knees spread, thighs trembling and full, three fingers wide, of Benny. He’s on the verge of climax, can see it at the back of his eyelids, when Benny leans off. Coaxes him down till he's whining and loose and more a series of shudders than a human.

It’s not until he’s calmed considerably (without coming, thank you very much) that he realizes he had been saying anything at all, let alone in another language. “What’s that, cher?” Benny asks, and from the tone woven through his voice Dean knows that he heard perfectly well, he just wants to make Dean repeat himself. He’s never commented on it, never corrected Dean’s accent or pushed to teach him any other phrases. But he likes to hear this, likes when Dean says it freely, and often.

“Je t’aime,” Dean admits on an exhale.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you're all staying safe & warm & loved 💓  
> [reblog it on tumblr!](https://sweatercas.tumblr.com/post/616037689031098368/this-is-mostly-for-cherryberrynice-prayedtoyou)


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